Chapter 22: Revelations

William stared at the final page taunting him, signaling the end of the book. He flipped through the pages, hoping he had been mistaken. Perhaps he skipped a section or the book had been written out of order. He re-read the final page, hoping he had mistranslated or overlooked something.

He wasn’t mistaken. There were no signs of pages being torn out. They had reached the end of the tome.

He stared at the single sentence on the last page, its words burning an image into his mind:

Lyndria’s story will continue in the next book.

Everything bubbled up to the surface all at once. With a cry of rage and pain, he leaped to his feet and swept all the contents of the desk onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Karl asked. “What did you see?”

William leaned against the desk, squeezing the edges until his fingertips hurt. “I can’t believe it. She played me for a fool! Even after all this time, I still was a puppet in her web!”

“Will you stop the games and speak plain?”

He pointed an accusatory finger at the old book lying several feet away. The arrangement of the objects littering the floor around it resembled a sadistic grin. “That was the end of it,” William said. “There are no more pages.”

“What?!” He snatched the book off the floor and shook it. “That can’t be everything! It can’t end like that! It doesn’t tell us anything!”

“That’s because it was nothing more than a story!” William cried, spittle flying from his lips and dripping down his chin. “This entire time I’ve been reading a fantasy! The fictitious adventures of a fictitious dragon!”

Karl stared, his mouth hanging open.

William wasn’t done with his rage-fuelled rant. He kicked the chair over and continued, not caring if their captors overheard them or not. “I should have known! What evidence did we have that Lyndria existed? The word of a dragon who was a proven liar? A few hastily translated notes? Or did we truly think that simply because it was old, it had to be real? How many pieces of art like that exist today? How many paintings of fictional landscapes and imaginary events hang on gallery walls? Even after a thousand years, it will not change that those drawings depict things that never transpired!”

Karl sank to the floor. “This entire time, we’ve been lied to? No. No, no, no.” He shook his head like a rebellious child. “No! She was real. She had to be. The book confirms it! I did not lose my men to a ghost! And what about the cult who wrote it?”

“You mean the cult that has not once been mentioned?” William asked bitterly. “It even states that Lyndria hated being followed by humans. Assuming that’s true, she would have never sanctioned this. And the second thing. This tome contains intimate details of her time long before she interacted with humans. How would someone have gotten that information unless she gave it to them? Which begs the question of why she would agree to such a thing. The answer is simple: She never did.”

“I won’t accept that this entire thing was caused by a piece of fiction,” Karl said through clenched teeth. “This book mentions things, places, people, that we know are real. What about the necklace? The one Cutter killed hundreds of humans and leveled an entire prison for? It was real. You saw it yourself!”

“Give it a rest, Karl. We were fooled. Anyone can write a story based on reality.” He sat on the bed, his anger and all will to function drained. “We blindly chased after a dream instead of confirming its contents.”

“Then we should confirm it.”

William laughed sarcastically. “Yes, let’s go to the nearest archive and search for Lyndria’s birth certificate. Maybe we will even find her registration papers.”

Karl glared at him, his fists clenched at his sides. William sat there, resolving not to even bother defending himself if Karl chose to hit him. He deserved it. So many people were dead because of his foolishness. Because he was a dragon’s pawn.

But the blow never came. They sat there in silence, stewing in their frustration and misery. William ran through all of his conversations with Cutter, looking for something, anything that could have given him a signal. There had to be a sign somewhere that he was being duped. It didn’t take long to realize that the signs had been everywhere. Cutter constantly reminded him, often mockingly, that he knew nothing. That his assumptions would be his undoing. That he refused to see beyond his hubris and thought he understood everything in the world.

He thought losing the prison was what she meant, but even that had been a mistake.

Suddenly, Karl jumped to his feet. “No, I refuse to let it end this way. We can’t let Cutter win.”

“She already has,” William said. “She has her prize and the only people who know are either in her thrall, in a grave, or in here. Once our captors realize we have nothing to offer, our lives are forfeit. She won.”

Karl crossed the room and hauled William up by the shirt collar. “Get over yourself! Is this what nobles are taught? To just give up and moan every time things don’t go their way? ‘Oh, the mean dragon outsmarted me and made me look like a fool!’ And you call yourself a leader? You make me sick!” He shoved William violently onto the bed.

William just lay there, staring at the ceiling. “People are dead because of me. What would have me do?”

“Not let their deaths mean nothing! People counted on you! Trusted your word! They sacrificed themselves believing in you and this is how you repay their efforts?”

William lifted his head enough to look at his companion. It seemed so simple when spoken out loud. Avenge the deaths of the fallen, stop the evildoers, and save the world. It always sounded simple, but in reality, it wasn’t so cut and dry. Sometimes victory came at too high a cost. How many times must he throw himself at the wall? How many times must he fail and falter?

“Hmph, so that’s what he meant,” Karl said.

That snapped him out of his stupor. “What did you say?”

“That look on your face. It’s the look of a man who has gotten tired of picking himself up.” He righted the chair on the floor and sat down. “Now it’s my turn to tell a story: Back during the Great Rebellion, there used to be a commander of an army. He led thousands of brave men and women against the dragons, but back then we didn’t know the first thing about fighting them. There were casualties. A lot of casualties. Soon, the dragons began to mock him, calling him the ‘General of the Dead.’ ”

William wondered what this story had to do with the present situation, but seeing the serious expression on Karl’s face, he kept silent and let him continue.

“But the general kept fighting. Even as his army grew smaller and he lost more and more soldiers to the dragons, desertion, and hardships of travel. Eventually, word of his losses and failure spread and people lost faith in him. They shunned him and his soldiers, refused to give them food or shelter, and no one dare join his ranks.”

If this is meant to make me feel better, you’re failing miserably, William thought.

Whether Karl could read the annoyance in his face or not, he kept going, “Eventually, his men grew tired of senseless death and missed their families, so they rebelled. But before killing him, they gave him a chance to say a few final words.” He fell silent for a moment as if waiting for a question or snarky comment. When neither came, he continued the story. “The general said, ‘I regret nothing. I fought tooth and nail for a world I believed in because I would rather fail a thousand times than live with the shame of knowing I never tried to succeed. I only ask that you continue to show the dragons that we will not be cowed.’ The soldiers were so moved by his speech that they let him go and chose to follow him until the end. It didn’t take long. They were all killed a week later defending a small town from a dragon raiding party.”

“Is that it?” William asked. “I don’t know what suddenly brought this about, but it was not very inspiring.”

“What brought it about is I’m trying to get you off your ass! The point is they never stopped trying. They kept fighting knowing that death was better than not trying at all.”

“That’s easy to say until death is on your heels. Or better yet, when you’re not the one doing the sacrificing. Those people accomplished nothing. They fought and died, never knowing victory.”

“Is that how you see it?” Karl asked, frowning. “Is that how you measure life? Living? Do you only care about results? If everyone thought that way we’d still be under the dragon’s heel!”

He stood up and snatched the old tome off the floor. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is the point of the story? This Tanor was a monster, she wanted to control everything. Lyndria was defeated by her and I’m guessing it wasn’t the last time, but Lyndria didn’t stop. She kept going because she knew she’d rather fight for her life!”

“Lyndria is not real!” William cried, jumping to his feet. “Of course she has conviction and fights because no one wants to read a story in which the main character gives up! This is the real world and the hero does not always prevail! Open your eyes and face reality!”

Karl’s expression hardened. “Reality? No, the true reality is Cutter was right about you, you don’t know a damn thing. If living in ‘reality’ means just lying down and taking it, I’ll stick to the fantasy.”

He looked like he had more to say, but instead, he suddenly whirled and faced the door. “Did you hear that?”

Before William could reply that he heard nothing, he did hear something. A muffled thud like something heavy falling in the distance. Not long after came the loud bang of gunfire.

William and Karl flattened themselves on the floor. None of the shots entered their room but neither dared lift more than a few inches from the floor. The silence outside had been replaced with complete chaos. Shots rang out in irregular intervals, intermixed with shouts, curses, and dying screams.

Karl crawled across the floor until he reached the door then tried the knob.

“What are you doing?” William cried.

“We can’t stay here!”

“But—” he was cut off by several shots piercing the floor. He curled into a ball out of reflex, hoping to make himself as small of a target as possible.

When he peeked out from the fetal position, Karl had opened the door and was peering down the hall. With the door opened, the sounds of combat were much louder and sounded much closer than William had hoped for.

The coast must have been clear because Karl rushed forward and pulled William to his feet.

“Let’s go!” Karl cried. “Stay down and stay close to me!”

It was the Osharese breakout all over again. Everything had devolved into pandemonium. Between the gunshots, overlapping shouts, and breaking objects William couldn’t’ hear a thing. He didn’t like it. He felt closed off and blinded. They only knew if a direction wasn’t safe after seeing the chaos and carnage. Karl had picked up a gun from one of the bodies and handed another to William. It didn’t make him feel any safer. People rushed all around them, but everyone was so focused on the fighting that they may as well have been invisible. William didn’t try to discern the identity of the mysterious raiding party. Whoever they were and whatever they wanted, he doubted he would receive any amnesty if caught or spotted.

Somehow, they managed to get inside another room without getting shot. William didn’t bother to look around to see where they were. Just so long as it wasn’t full of hostile forces.

“Bastards.”

William and Karl whirled around to face the interloper. Julian sat in the corner. His clothes and face were drenched in blood. A gun sat next to him, but the way his hand sat limp beside it made William question if he could even lift the thing. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances and raised the pistol Karl had given him.

“Look who’s out of the cage,” Julian said. He made a guttural sound that William assumed was meant to be laughter, but it quickly devolved into a fit of coughing. “You’re the luckiest bastard I ever met. If I were a religious man, I’d swear the gods were watching over you. Well, I guess a dragon is close enough.”

“The dragons are here?” Karl asked.

“Who else would be attacking?” He spat a glob of blood onto the floor. “I have to give Lyndria credit. Letting you get captured to distract us? Fucking genius. We were so focused on outside efforts to prevent a rescue, we never expected a traitor in our own ranks.”

William said nothing as he slowly lowered his weapon. He noticed Karl had lowered his handgun as well. It was clear Julian had no more fight in him and even if he did, he wouldn’t leave this room alive.

Instead, Karl spoke. “You were betrayed? By who?”

“Me,” Julian replied with a grin, showing off blood-covered teeth. “I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“And now look at you,” Karl said. “Some deal.”

He gave another raspy cough. “It’s better than what the ones in the hall got. If they’re lucky, they’ll be dead before Lyndria gets a hold of them. Do yourself a favor: don’t fight them. Stop thinking you can beat them at their own game. You lost before you even knew the game existed—No, they made the game. They had centuries to build it, perfect it, and fill it with pieces. Do you get it now? There’s no group she hasn’t infiltrated because she likely started it. They make the flames and we’re the moths drawn to them” He grinned at Karl. “Isn’t that right?”

“What is he talking about?” William asked Karl. His companion continued to glare at Julian.

“You didn’t know?” Julian said. “How do you think we knew so much about you? How do you think we knew where to stage the ambush and exactly how to find you?” He gave another pained wheeze and spat more blood on the floor. “And how do you think she knew about the hidden chamber in the prison?”

“Because you leaked the information I sent you,” was all Karl said before raising his pistol and firing. Julian’s head snapped backward, bounced off the wall behind him, then fell forward. “I warned them we couldn’t trust a man with no morals.”

William could only stare. He felt lightheaded as he tried to comprehend what just transpired, what had been revealed. All this time, a follower of Lyndria had been with him this entire time. How did he not see it?

“We’ve lingered too long,” Karl said, tucking the pistol into his belt and approaching the window. “Come on, we’ll get out this way. It shouldn’t be too big of a drop.”

“You…You’re one of them.”

“No, I’m not. But we can talk about it later unless you want to shoot it out now.” He grabbed the chair nearby and broke the window. “I’m getting out while I can. Follow or stay here, your choice.”

With that, Karl disappeared through the window. Another gunshot snapped William out of his stupor, but before he could approach the window, the door burst open and a pair of masked men poured into the room. William raised his pistol. One of the men grabbed the gun and pointed it toward the ceiling while the other punched William in the face.

Spots exploded in his vision as he stumbled backward. Somehow he regained his balance and corrected himself just in time to see the stock of a rifle jutting towards his face.

There was a brief flash of pain and then everything went dark.